


and the lights come on

by silverkatana



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-10-19 09:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17599124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverkatana/pseuds/silverkatana
Summary: it's dark,so let our hearts, combined, light up this starless night.





	1. cruel

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: despite references to true events & time frames in this work of fiction, they are not completely accurate nor are they derived 100% from the actual situations. enjoy!

The door room cracks open just the slightest, a soundless motion, but the hunched figure on the bed startles with a jerk as though an explosion had just occurred. The darkness of the room, save from the faintest trickling of light past closed curtains, is almost blinding compared to the calm brightness of corridors outside. 

 

“What do you want?” the figure whispers, barely loud enough for himself, even, to hear, his voice coming out scratchy and rougher than sandpaper, and the last couple of syllables are choked back into his larynx by a hoarse dryness that makes itself present in the folds of his throat.

 

“I’m just checking on you, that’s all,” the one at the door mutters, brown hair neatly styled and outfitted in semi-formal clothing. “We just got back from our schedules. How are you feeling, Heechul?”

 

There’s a pause, a moment of hesitation that filters through the air before the curt reply comes. “Like shit.” Heechul flops onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress first, and takes to staring blankly up at the ceiling, his silence a clear euphemism for  _ please get out now _ .

 

A quiet click; he shuts the door behind him and reaches towards the side of the wall where the light switch is located. A quick flick of the fingers and the room is flooded uncomfortably bright, more so for Heechul than for him, given the way a muffled groan erupts from Heechul the same time he presses his face into the sheets in a feeble attempt to the light. “Switch that off, Jungsoo.”

 

Jungsoo raises his eyebrow, looking at the figure that isn’t much more than a lump across the bed and scrutinising Heechul carefully - to the best of his abilities, at least, considering how half of Heechul’s face is hidden and the rest of his body is covered in baggy old clothes that signal a complete fashion disaster.

 

“You look like shit,” he sums up bluntly, half-wondering if Heechul is going to aim a pillow right at his head and whether he should prepare to dodge, although another part of him is relieved that Heechul is taking the effort to even reply to him. It’s an improvement from previous days, anyway, where Heechul sits and stares at him with hollow-eyed gazes until he exits the room.

 

Heechul rolls around to face him, and under the lights, he can properly see the tiredness in his eyes that makes itself known in the form of little crimson cracks unfolding from the corners, the dark circles heavy and worn that weren’t there before, the dryness of his lips, the way he sags into the surface of the mattress as though he no longer has enough energy to support his own body weight.

 

“Thank you,” Heechul exhales in a sarcastic half-mutter, “Now please get out.”

 

Arguing is futile; he’s well-aware of that before he even tries it. He’s been on the receiving end of Heechul’s sharp tongue and odd ability to win every argument before; not bothering to protest, he switches off the light and watches as Heechul buries himself into his blankets, turning away from the door.

 

“Sleep well, Heechul,” he says before he shuts the door behind him.

 

“He spoke to you?” Ryeowook queries as he walks into the living room. “He wouldn’t even reply to the rest of us aside from asking us to leave the room.”

 

Jungsoo almost collapses into the sofa, the faint ache in his limbs urging him to take a shower and get some rest. “Yeah. Not much though, he chased me out in the end.”

 

Ryeowook takes a seat opposite from him, and he absentmindedly notes that Ryeowook’s already taken a shower and is changed into comfortable clothes. “Aren’t you worried?” the younger blurts after a faint moment of hesitance, “He’s been holed up in there for weeks, and at this rate the company is going to get mad at him. How many schedules has he missed?”

 

A bitter laugh flutters breathlessly through the air - his. “Too many,” he remarks, tracing little circles into the surface of the sofa with his index finger in an attempt to hide both the aggravation and concern welling up in his chest. “The company is already mad at him. He doesn’t care.”

 

_ How could you be so selfish?  _ Weeks of contained irritation threaten to bubble out past his lips, but he tightens his jaw hard and hugs his knees to his chest, choosing to stare at the patterns of mahogany swirled across their old coffee table. He can’t bring himself to meet Ryeowook’s gaze, not when he’s ninety percent convinced that his voice would crack if he lied through his teeth and told the younger one that everything was going to be okay.

 

“Everything will be okay.” He hears his own voice echoing hollowly around the walls of the living room, his vision still fixed adamantly on the table, the floor, the tiny dents in the wall, everything but Ryeowook’s questioning expression. “Heechul will be okay, and we’ll be okay.”

 

“Okay,” Ryeowook murmurs with a small sigh of relief, and Jungsoo sucks in a breath as his throat goes dry with pity towards Ryeowook, towards the other members. They’re so optimistic still, agreeing with his words - he doesn’t know whether it’s because he’s the leader, or because they truly believe everything’s okay - believing that they’re okay and Heechul’s okay and he’s okay.

 

So many okay’s even though nothing is okay.

 

_ How could it be okay?  _ He waits until Ryeowook wanders off into the kitchen before he rises from his seat and makes his way towards the shower with languid steps.  _ He lost his best friend, the only one who understood him well. Better than any of us can. _

 

The water trails in cold rivulets along the bumps and lines of his body, down his exposed skin like raindrops across window panes, and when he stops the water from running goosebumps spread across his skin in faint tremors.

 

A loose tee haphazardly thrown on, paired with fresh undergarments and white shorts, a wet towel strewn around his neck because he doesn’t have the energy left to properly dry his hair. An aroma greets him upon stepping out of the shower; it appears Ryeowook had departed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

 

His footsteps slow on the way to the kitchen, and he finds himself lingering outside Heechul’s door again.

 

The door clicks open again. It’s still dark, and all is quiet aside from the rasp of his own breathing and the clank of silverware from the kitchen.

 

“Why are you here again?” Heechul whispers.

 

“It’s dinner,” he says simply, taking a seat on the empty chair near the door and switching on the lights. Heechul sits up with an annoyed look crossing his features, but he doesn’t argue.

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

_ Don’t give me your bullshit, _ he’s almost tempted to spit, but instead settles for crossing his arms against his chest and shooting Heechul a wry smile. “And when was the last time you ate? I don’t think human beings typically go for two days without food and feel completely fine.”

 

“Leave me the fuck alone,” Heechul mutters.

 

Jungsoo shrugs, opening the door to exit. “If that’s what you want.” This time, he doesn’t switch off the lights when he leaves.

 

It’s seven in the evening, maybe, when he opens the door again. Heechul doesn’t even bother to turn to face him this time, but the lights are still switched on just like they were when he exited the room.

 

“I brought you food,” he announces, walking towards Heechul’s bed with the bowl of soup. “It’s not much because I know you’d refuse to eat much anyway.”

 

Heechul curls his spine into the pillow he’s leaning against more, turning his head away from Jungsoo, and the latter takes notice of how thin Heechul’s become after a month or so of nothing much aside from water and alcohol. “You have to eat.”

 

“I said I’m not hungry.” A shake of the head, followed by a tired sigh as Jungsoo continues to stay rooted in his spot by the bed.

 

“You have to eat,” Jungsoo insists with a push of the bowl towards Heechul. There’s a moment of silence that hangs between them, and Heechul inclines his head towards Jungsoo slightly, just enough for their weary gazes to connect and for Jungsoo to hope for a second that Heechul would reach up and accept the food.

 

“I said I’m not fucking hungry!”

 

Soup splatters across the floor, a loud ugly slap of liquid falling from a height, spreading like blood from a gaping wound in a pool across polished ochre-cream wood. Shards of white, of what was once a bowl, follow in a clattering like a wrathful sky vomiting hailstones in destructive flurries across the ground.

 

Faint red crawls across his sunken cheeks, eyebrows knotted and lips trembling in a rushed attempt to keep any more words from spilling out. The clothes hang off his thin frame as he rises from the bed in an attempt to pick up the pieces, and the way he stumbles betrays the way he hasn’t left his room in weeks, and watching him Jungsoo doesn’t know whether to get angry or to hold him close and cry for him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Heechul breathes out vacantly. “I’ll pick it up. It’s my fault.”

 

“You’ll get hurt, move.” His lips part to protest, but he ends up falling back into his bed upon Jungsoo’s light shove. 

 

Time is passed in empty quietude, a steady tick-tock tick-tock of unexplained tension and too many thoughts and words struggling to make sense of themselves in their brains. Jungsoo disposes first of the shards of the broken bowl, then wipes away the spilt soup till every drop leaves the wooden surface. 

 

“You’re so fucking selfish, you know.”

 

It’s a statement, not a question.

 

Heechul turns to face him, a raised-eyebrow stare that could make the world’s greatest liar spill all his secrets one by one till he’s run dry. “What?”

 

But he’s only speaking the truth, anyway.

 

“I said you’re so fucking selfish,” Jungsoo rasps out, “You’re really fucking selfish.”

 

Heechul only laughs.

 

It’s something he hasn’t seen in a while, the corners of Heechul’s lips curving upwards, even though the sound that leaves his throat is an ugly hoarse chuckle filled with as much as spite as he can possibly muster. It’s a loud sound, one that rings sharply in the sullen silent atmosphere that once filled the bedroom, it’s a sound that makes Jungsoo run his gaze over Heechul’s expression again and again in an attempt to better read the man he can’t seem to figure out no matter how hard he tries.

 

“I know,” Heechul whispers in bouts of breathless chuckling, “Of course I know that.”

 

“Then why?” The frustration that he’s tried to bury within himself for the past month boils over, a wild animal breaking free of its shackles, and his fingernails are going to leave little crescent-shaped imprints on his skin soon given how tightly he’s digging them into his palm. “Why are you still so selfish?”

 

“Don’t you know me?” Heechul tilts his head, a lazy smile dancing across his face. A hollow one, devoid of any emotions. His eyes are so dead, as though he’s just strolled through a world war and returned after seeing innocents being ripped apart for crimes they never committed. “I’m a selfish person.”

 

_ No, no, no.  _ “No,” he spits out, and his voice cracks just a little - enough for Heechul to hear, “No, I don’t know you, damn it, and I fucking wish I did because maybe it would make this whole situation a little easier.”

 

His vision is beginning to go blurry -  _ fuck, Jungsoo, you cry too easily -  _ and his chest is rising up and down in unsteady breaths, and he has to fight to keep his voice from wavering too much when he speaks to Heechul as clearly as he can manage. “Maybe if I understood you better I’d know why you’re doing all this to yourself and to us. Maybe if I understood you better and you trusted me more you’d let me know why you’re fucking yourself up so much. Maybe if I understood you like Hangeng did then you wouldn’t be hurting like this.”

 

“Be quiet.”

 

He shuts up.

 

“Of course you don’t understand,” Heechul forces out, his eyes now a mix of emotion again too difficult for Jungsoo to decipher aside from the layer of anger that coats over the others, “He was my only friend. But now he’s gone and he left me here alone and how fucking cruel is that, to have years of friendship and love and affection gone in a matter of seconds after he steps out of the damn door, how fucking cruel-” His voice breaks and Jungsoo feels what can only be described as his heart breaking in the confines of his chest, “- How fucking cruel is  _ he _ to leave me here alone like this, how could he just leave and not come back and how could he just walk out the door as though our years of friendship meant nothing at all, and how could he leave me here all alone when he’s the only one who ever fucking understood me?”

 

Heechul cries before Jungsoo does, tiny sobs that shudder through his body, weeks of tears he refused to cry finally getting hold of him and driving him into a dizzying spiel of tear-stained words. “How could he throw away everything like that when I’m here clinging to the shreds of our friendship for months like he’s a fucking  _ ghost _ just slipping through my fingers no matter how much I try to reach out and catch his wrist and tell him to come back? How could our years of friendship just be barely more than a whisper now, how could we be strangers to each other when we understood each other the most?”

 

Jungsoo stands and wraps his arms around Heechul’s trembling frame. He’s warm, and Heechul doesn’t push him away, instead continuing to let the words spill out of him in half-whispered sobs. “We were everything and now we’re nothing and how could he be so fucking cruel to me? I still dream of him some days, and sometimes he’s right next to me there, and it’s so cruel to wake up and realise reality is reality.”

 

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, holding Heechul tighter, “It’s going to be okay, I promise you.”

 

Heechul’s tears are wetting the sleeve of his shirt, but he doesn’t mind.

 

“He promised me he would stay,” Heechul says with a crooked smile that Jungsoo knows means the opposite of happiness, “He didn’t. People make promises, and then they never keep them. I’m used to it.”

 

_ When will we ever be okay? _

 

“Please stop hurting alone like this,” he’s almost begging Heechul now, “Just give me a chance and I’ll try my best to understand you.”

 

“Fuck off,” Heechul responds instantly, pulling himself out of Jungsoo’s grip, “You can’t replace him. No one can.”

 

A sigh makes its way out of Jungsoo’s lips, and he smiles tiredly before standing and moving back. “You never change, do you?” he queries ruefully. “I’m not trying to replace him, Heechul. I’m just trying to understand you better. I’ll be your friend, too.”

 

“And then are you going to leave like he did?”

 

“ _ No _ ,” the word comes out a lot louder than he expects, and he flushes for a moment before continuing, “I’ll never leave. Please trust me on this, Heechul. I can’t understand you like he did, but I’ll try my best. We’ve only got nine days between us, you know.”

 

“What makes you think you’ll understand me?” Heechul asks with a dry laugh, “You didn’t for so many years. Why would you succeed now?”

 

Everything is dark in their relationship, like a road in the dead of the night without any street lamps lighting the way, like a cold black labyrinth that he doesn’t know how to navigate. Everything is dark, and he stands at the entrance of the maze completely lost.

 

He tries, anyway.

 

“We can’t be everything,” he says, seeing Heechul’s gaze trained on him with the same mixture of indecipherable emotions, and he vows to understand every single one of those emotions one day, “But we can be something, at least. Don’t be lonely like this anymore.”

 

He’s convinced that perhaps Heechul would end up laughing in his face and telling him in his usual crude manner to get out of the room; but Heechul falls into a contemplative silence, his gaze searching Jungsoo’s.

 

“We can try,” Heechul responds at last, unevenly and uncertainly.

 

Slowly, a lone streetlight a few metres from the entrance dims on, flickering and weak, but providing enough light for him to take the first few steps forward.

 

“Thank you,” and now he’s smiling so bright without even consciously realising it, and the tears that have been accumulating in his eyes for too long finally ease their way out, “Let’s not be lonely anymore.”


	2. burning flame

When Heechul clambers into the van after a month and a half, the members remain quiet, knowing how much the second oldest member would hate the prying questions and attention, but the quivering lips twitching upwards and shining eyes give away their excitement and joy.

 

Jungsoo takes a seat next to Heechul who’s leaned his head against the window; over the past two weeks he’s tried his best to get closer to Heechul through small talk and silly jokes and reminisces of the past and ponderings over the future alongside the susurruses of dark red alcohol in wine glasses or the more strident cracking opens of beer cans.

 

More of hushed conversations only for their ears to hear instead of stentorian tones, no raucous laughters loud enough for the rest of the members but instead quiet chuckles of sentiment and wishful thinkings to diffuse airs of quietude.

 

It’s not the best yet - he still can’t pick apart the emotions that dwell in the corners of Heechul’s eyes, nor can he make sense of every heavy-weighted word leaving Heechul’s lips, but he’s getting somewhere at the very least.

 

It isn’t everything, but at least it’s something.

 

When they arrive at the company, he can sense the watchful gazes that follow behind their every footstep; he isn’t surprised, and he smiles to himself at the way Heechul brushes the inquisitive looks off and strides through the glass doors as if he’s never missed a day of work in his life.

 

Even the staff members are surprised. They walk through the practice room doors with phones to their ears expecting the bunch of them to be practicing their choreographies, only to halt midway through conversations when they catch a glimpse of Heechul in the wide glass mirror.

 

They put down their phones and begin whispering to each other - the topic of their sudden discussion is not much of a secret, and Heechul knows it too, given the way he turns his head to hide a small snicker - with furtive glances in the general direction of Heechul every now and then.

 

“Leeteuk,” they call his stage name, beckoning to him to follow them out of the practice room, most likely to discuss Heechul’s apparent change of heart - he isn’t surprised that they pinpointed him as the one who’d know the most about it, considering how he  _ is  _ the leader after all. 

 

“What’s the meaning of this?” That’s the first question that they ask, and he isn’t sure if it’s because they need to report to their higher-ups or if it’s genuine curiosity.

 

“Aren’t you glad he’s back?” he retorts back, a little cheekily but still bordering on the polite side so they’re unable to scold him for it.

 

A wry smile crosses Heechul’s manager’s lips. “Pleasantly surprised is the more accurate word,” he mutters in partial exasperation, and Jungsoo has to hold back the laughter that bubbles its way through his throat. “But why the sudden change in attitude?”

 

Jungsoo falls silent, coming to the realisation that perhaps he isn’t all that sure of how to explain it - he can’t put words to the nights of sitting on wooden floors drowning loud thoughts and deafening silences away in convenience store-bought cans of beer, to the way whispered words turn to strung-together sentences to light chuckles, to the promises to each other that they’d try, to the innate desire within both of their souls that seek companionship against their cold cruel backdrop of loneliness.

 

So he settles with, “Heechul’s doing okay now.”

 

And he is.

 

They both are.

  
  
  


Two or so at night finds the two of them seated at the foot of Heechul’s bed, sharing a packet of chips that they convinced Heechul’s manager to buy from the nearby convenience store; Heechul wanted to grab a beer out of the refrigerator originally, and for the most part Jungsoo agreed with him but they  _ did  _ have morning schedules and - screw alcohol and how good it is, he’s the leader and he hasn’t forgotten his responsibilities (or perhaps it’s also because he really doesn’t want to have to deal with a hungover Heechul that early in the morning). 

 

“Hey,” Heechul says out of the blue, his tone barely above a whisper now since most of the others are fast asleep, “Thanks.”

 

“For what?”

 

Heechul shrugs, crunching down on the last of the chips and crushing the packet into a ball before aiming it towards the bin - it’s an admittedly terrible throw, and it misses its target by miles, causing Heechul to get up with a grumble to properly dispose of it. “You know,” he answers casually, “I nearly wanted to give up on everything with Hangeng gone.”

 

Jungsoo blinks, almost recoiling in surprise; it’s the first time Heechul has voluntarily mentioned Hangeng, and he had been careful not to mention the name either, taking Heechul’s reticence on the issue as a sign that he’d rather not touch on the topic. “I didn’t do anything,” he mutters with an abashed smile, “I just kept you company.”

 

A shrug is the only response he gets from Heechul for a while, and for those few moments of stillness he glances sideways at the younger of the two and wonders to himself if he’s supposed to understand what that meant because truthfully, he has zero idea.

 

“If your company prevented me from slowly falling to pieces and going insane, then it’s something,” Heechul utters at last with a short laugh, “So thank you for that.”

 

_ It seems so… uncharacteristic of him to be thanking me.  _ Despite his own thoughts, Jungsoo smiles, reaching out to pat Heechul on the shoulder much like his regular actions towards the younger members. Heechul doesn’t flinch away from his touch. “Don’t get too sappy on me,” Heechul warns suddenly, and a chuckle bursts from Jungsoo’s lips -  _ ah, there’s the Heechul I remember  _ \- as he brushes Jungsoo’s hand off with a joking smile. “I’m only saying this once. Tomorrow I’ll go back to being me, don’t worry.”

 

“I think I prefer you like this. Less destructive, less chaotic, genuinely nice,” Jungsoo teases, and he has to duck to avoid Heechul’s hand ready to land a slap across his face. 

 

“Are you implying that I’m not nice? Look at me, I’m a fucking angel!” Heechul hurls back, and there’s a pause that’s suspended between them for a breath’s wait before both of them collapse into laughter, the cacophonous rowdy kind that Jungsoo’s convinced will wake up some of the other members if they don’t quieten down.

 

It’s been a while since they’ve laughed like this.

 

“Hey, Heechul?”

 

An absent-minded hum signifies to him that Heechul’s listening.

 

“Everything’s okay now, right?”

 

There’s the faintest flicker in Heechul’s eyes that makes him nervous for a moment, and then Heechul chuckles, a light sound that travels across the air and worms its way into his heart and it’s only then that he realises that the slightest of sounds can make him feel a substantial amount of relief, or perhaps it’s because it’s from Heechul.

 

“Of course,” Heechul responds good-naturedly, and Jungsoo doesn’t know him well enough to understand whether the smile written on his lips is genuine or not, but he chooses to believe that it is. “Now get out of my room before you fall asleep in here, old man.”

 

“I’m nine days older than you!” Jungsoo retaliates, but all he gets in response is Heechul pointing to his bedroom door and mumbling something along the lines of ‘get out before I throw my shoe at you’.

 

Jungsoo chooses to leave, aware of the fact that Heechul doesn’t even  _ have  _ shoes on - they’re at the front door - but he’d rather not risk his life; knowing Heechul, he really might have the ability to pull out a shoe from nowhere and aim it directly at his face, so he decides it’s better to be safe than sorry.

 

He’s careful to shut his own door quietly behind him, not wanting to rouse any sleeping member and disrupt their sleep any more than their schedules already are - morning schedules are the devil’s spawn, he swears - and falls back-first into his bed, a blank stare fixed upon the ceiling as he wonders whether it’s worth the effort to drag his tired body to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

 

It’s been a long time since he’s hung out with someone else just chatting and laughing and eating chips throughout the night - and with Heechul, at that. Their words still ring fresh in his head,  _ let’s not be lonely anymore,  _ and perhaps that’s what the warmth residing in the abysses of his heart is all about - it must be because he’s managed to do it, because now Heechul doesn’t spend nights alone in the darkness crying over a friend who left him behind.

 

_ And now I don’t spend my nights alone staring out glass windows at empty roads or lying sleepless against my pillow. _

 

He startles a little upon reaching the conclusion that spending time with Heechul might really be one of his favourite things amidst the chaotic schedules and bone-breaking dance practices and frantic rushing from van to studio to van in a mish-mash of managers and members.

 

Maybe that’s why his heart flutters a tiny bit in his chest when he turns around halfway through his morning coffee to see Heechul walking into the kitchen grouchy expression and messy bed hair and all; maybe that’s why a smile always finds its way to his face when he looks at Heechul to find him looking right back, and maybe that’s why sleep eludes him time and time again as part of his befuddled mind clings to the notion that he’s in love with -

 

No.

 

Jungsoo sits upright as though someone had just rammed a ruler down his spine, breaths filtering through his clenched teeth in uneven gasps, shaking his head left to right then left again in an attempt to rid the thoughts that whirl around and around in his mind.

 

He rushes to the bathroom and brushes his teeth with some sort of odd urgency till all he tastes is mint so strong it burns his tongue, and yet he can’t seem to rid the thoughts from his mind. Of shared beers and the occasional red wine, of two ams in the morning, of a hope and warmth he hasn’t known until now, of Heechul, of Heechul.

 

No, no,  _ no. _

 

Of course he’s felt affection for his colleagues and friends before, both female and male. Of course his heart has fluttered in his chest and butterflies have spread their wings deep within him before.

 

But it’s not quite the same, no - now it feels like his heart is caught in a dilemma as to whether to leap right through his throat or to sink to the bottom of his being, and the butterflies are more like giant raging moths attempting to break out through the twist-and-turn churns of his intestines.

 

He doesn’t feel this way, not when he’s with anyone else aside from Heechul. Fuck,  _ no  _ \- he slams his spine against the bathroom wall and exhales heavily, staring at his own chalk-white face in the mirror; when had he first began feeling like this?

 

He can’t even remember. Months ago when everything first began? Last week? Yesterday?

 

_ No, this can’t happen. _

 

_ Not now, not ever. _

 

His gait is unsteady, barely supported, and his mind is faraway as he strides back into his own room and his legs give way like a dam releasing the last wave of water. His chest hits the bed first, and he lies still like that for minutes on end.

 

He is the leader of Super Junior.

 

It’s not possible for him to be in love with his very own groupmate.

 

_ Oh fate, how cruel must you be to make me fall in love with somebody I cannot love? _

 

The lights along the road shimmer, a sudden golden-white glow, and then it fades, reduced to a barely-flickering burning hue.

 

Jungsoo closes his eyes and allows sleep to plague him, and all is dark.

  
  
  


“Today we’ll have to finish sorting out the choreography for Bonamana,” Jungsoo calls as he walks into the practice room after their morning schedules, iced americano in one hand and mobile phone in the other. He’s been successful at discreetly avoiding Heechul so far - or at least he hopes - and despite not being the fondest at dance he’s been looking forward to choreography practice since it mostly means there won’t be many interactions with Heechul.

 

Of course, fate always has other plans in mind for him.

 

“Hyung,” Hyukjae calls, beckoning for him to come forward as he plays the track. “We were thinking, for this choreography - you see this part? It’s Heechul’s part, right?”

 

Jungsoo nods in affirmation; they originally planned to just have him walk to the front of the stage to sing his part, but everyone attested that it was far too boring, leaving Donghee and Hyukjae to plan out a more interesting move.

 

“Since he’s singing, he won’t want to be moving around too much, so this is why-” Hyukjae explains as he gestures for Donghee to come over, “- You’ll be doing this with Heechul-hyung.”

 

_ Oh no no no. _

 

Having to do anything at all with Heechul right after realising his own feelings is nothing short of a nightmare - having to stand with Heechul  _ right behind him _ singing, body pressed against his is worst than the darkest of his nights.

 

“Can we please stand back-to-back instead?” he finds himself pleading, an urgency woven in the way his words spill out a tangled mess, and he sees Hyukjae and Donghee exchange surprised looks.

 

Eventually, they shrug, and Jungsoo has to use all his willpower to hold back the sigh of relief that shakes through his entire body. “That’s fine too,” Donghee asserts with a faint grin, “But I never thought you cared much for skinship, hyung?”

 

_ With Heechul I do. _

 

“We can’t have anything inappropriate on broadcast, and you know how Heechul is,” he retorts good-naturedly, praying they can’t hear the way his voice goes raw like it physically hurts him with all the lying through his teeth he has to do.

 

A few mirthful chuckles here and there are traded before the dancer duo move off to explain the moves to the members who have trickled in after getting dressed into more comfortable training clothes.

 

Most of it passes in a whir of raised voices and choruses of agreement and Hyukjae’s feet going  _ pak pak pak  _ on the polished wood floor as he demonstrates the choreography - he zones out through most of it, only snapping back to attention when the members begin moving into their formations. He moves through the dance movements as fluidly as he can, and apparently he does decently enough, because he doesn’t get called out - and then the music’s put on pause, and he realises which part it is, and all of a sudden his throat goes drier than fallen leaves in the brunt of autumn.

 

“Heechul-hyung, move up there for your part, and - yes, that’s right!” Jungsoo has to hide a flinch as he hurries forward to stand back-to-back with Heechul, careful to leave a few centimetres’ gap between them.

 

He wonders if Heechul can hear the way his heart thrums so loud against his sternum it’s like a series of thunderclaps stark in the heart of a storm, wonders if Heechul can sense the way his breathing comes in irregular inhale-exhales as though his lungs have been out of use for centuries on end, wonders if the thoughts that are dizzying him are so loud that it’s audible even in Heechul’s hearing.

 

The music comes on, and there’s the scuffle of sneakers against the floor, and Heechul’s singing his part and his voice is right next to Jungsoo’s, so alluring so enchanting so  _ close  _ to him - and Jungsoo is wholly unprepared when Heechul presses his back right against Jungsoo’s so there isn’t enough space to fit a grain of dust between them.

 

The touch sends fire-sparks raising trails along the hairs on his arms, lightning bolts zigzagging along the curve of his spine, pink-red the hue of fresh roses dancing across his cheeks, his heart turning to a torrent, shattering smatterings of  _ thud-thud-thuds _ against his chest.

 

_ So this is what love feels like. _

 

The lights flash on, just for the briefest of milliseconds, and how bright they shine.

 

The way the practice room lights dim and distort in his vision and everything fades away except Heechul and him and Heechul’s touch against him, the way his blood courses through his veins and he feels a cacophony of emotion all at once, the way he comes alive for the slightest ticking of the clock hands.

 

And then Heechul moves away as if nothing happened at all -  _ as if he hadn’t just shown Jungsoo a world of fireworks and sparks and light a second ago -  _ and the lights go dark again, and Jungsoo’s so caught up in his own labyrinth of too many feelings and rushing thoughts that he stumbles to the back of the group and dances to the choreography with a hollow gaze planted across his face, not knowing whether or not he’s even in the right formation, left only with a growing ache somewhere in the depths of his being and the austere realisation and acceptance of the fact that he has fallen in love with Kim Heechul.

 

Now he feels so empty, like a bicycle rusted and thrown to the side, tyres flat or basket missing, feels like his soul has just been tempted with the taste of heaven before being locked out of the gates, and now his mind is full of Heechul, Heechul, Heechul, and now all his heart can ever desire is Heechul.

 

Because when he’s felt the way fire dances across his skin and love unfurls its way across his entire person and the way the lights come on, even for the tiniest crack of a second, and it’s the definition of pure bliss, how could he settle for anything less?


	3. together

His dreams have a funny way of intertwining so seamlessly with reality that he often wakes with a start, perspiration slick along his spine and eyes darting left-right-centre in a desperate attempt to assure himself that everything that happened was only playing in his head.

 

He awakens the same way this morning, tiredness rolling off him in waves - dreams like these never really did allow him to be wrapped in that calming embrace of slumber - as he opens his eyes to the watery rays of sunlight streaking in past the windows, courtesy of his manager drawing back his curtains after trying (and failing) to wake him up with words.

 

In his dream, the sun hung high in the sky, painting the world all around in lavish orange hues, reflecting a caressing light upon the roses he held tight in his grip. The world around them was quiet, save the faint whispers of the wind from around them, and in his dream  _ he  _ turned and their gazes met, and then  _ he  _ smiled and it felt as though they’ve been dancing waltzes around the stars in the most perfect of harmonies.

 

And then the roses dropped from his hand, petals the colour of blood scattering upon the earth, spilling like broken glass. The sun’s benevolent rays caught their shades, and then they lit up like hellfire breaking apart the earth’s very core, rising higher and higher in a whirlwind of flame till all he could see were gold-red sparks reflected in  _ his _ searing gaze.

 

“I don’t love you,” the whisper sounded over the angry screech of the flames, and then his world stopped spinning and tilted on its axis - and then he awoke, heart ramming painfully against his sternum, throat dry and too highly-aware of that fact that the voice belonged to Heechul.

 

His manager looks sympathetically at him and speaks, snapping some sense back into him and bringing him back to reality. “Bad dream?”

 

“I guess so,” he answers with a stretch as he clambers out of bed to get ready for his schedules, “It happens to everyone, though, no worries.”

 

They have another concert at night, and he smiles wryly to himself as he washes up and heads towards the living room to gather the other members before getting into the van. Their period of promotion for Bonamana would be over soon enough, and thank god for that - it’s not that he hates the song, really, it’s just a great relief that he no longer has to have his breath catch in his windpipe every single time Heechul leans against him.

 

At the same time, as he bears the little touches, he finds himself wishing he could have a little more.

 

His wish comes true later that night, surrounded by waves of sapphire blue, their own familiar song tracks blasting at full volume around the stadium so loud and heavy it reverberates through his body; Heechul’s part comes up, and he moves up, expecting to feel the sensation of Heechul’s back pressed against his as always.

 

Instead, he feels Heechul’s slender arm wrapped loosely around his neck and over his shoulder, and a gasp almost flies from his lips as he feels Heechul’s body, warm, pressed flush against the length of his own, steady heartbeat thrumming against his back in contrast to his own unsteady poundings.

 

He has to bite his lip to prevent any sound from escaping, and he struggles to stay focused - the lights are flickering so bright in his head now that it’s driving him dizzy, a spiralling mess, and in some aching recess of his soul he wonders desperately how Heechul can’t feel this carnal desire, this attraction, this  _ need _ \- and he has to keep himself from shuddering head-to-toe with relief when he successfully makes it back to his place in the formation without losing the entirety of his sanity.

 

His skin burns like he’s run through lava three hundred times over, hotter than the stage lights glaring down upon them, and he nearly slips up on the choreography a few times (thankfully, he corrects himself in time, and the members in front cover most of it up). 

 

_ No no  _ no  _ this can’t happen - if only you knew what you did to me. _

 

He resolves to speak to Heechul after the performance - it’s been a while since they’ve spoken in private, just the two of them, considering how he’s been using his workload as an excuse to stop drinking with Heechul at night (although really, he’s just scared of drinking too much and accidentally telling Heechul every one of his secrets, like “I love you”.)

 

When the show comes to an end and he’s finished changing backstage, however, he heads to his van to realise that Heechul, Kyuhyun and Siwon had apparently made dinner plans and were not present; with a quiet sigh he clambers aboard the van, sending a mental reminder to himself to talk to Heechul the following performance.

 

The next performance dawns upon them in Incheon at the Music Wave concert - he gets changed into his dark attire for Bonamana, and upon catching sight of Heechul exiting the dressing room after getting his hair done, he quickly calls out for the man and hurries forward.

 

Heechul turns, complying to the call of his name, and Jungsoo can see the faintest hints of surprise written in his gaze. “What do you need?” he queries almost conversationally, and Jungsoo allows himself a second to smile at how much Heechul sounds just like the old him (he’s recovered at last, even though the hurting never fully goes away), before launching into the reason for his calling.

 

“For Bonamana, please don’t do that again.”

 

Heechul goes quiet for a moment, his gaze calculative, curious, cryptic. Then, daringly: “Why not?”

 

Jungsoo can pick apart the challenge underlying in his smooth calm voice, can see the way the corners of his lips twitch up as if amused at the fact that he’s managed to affect Jungsoo with his little performance the last time -  _ oh, if only you know how much you affected me, way more than you think  _ \- and the way his eyes glint as though he’s planning to go against Jungsoo’s word.

 

“Just don’t,” he finds himself snapping, seeing surprise reflected in Heechul’s gaze, “Stick to the original choreography.”

 

Now Heechul’s frowning, eyes narrowed and words biting, “The fans loved it. Everyone was fine with it, and no one in the company had any qualms about it. So why are you bringing it up? I’m disappointed, you know -” A dry smile twists his lips, “I missed you ever since you stopped drinking with me, and I hug you once and you’re here telling me not to touch you ever again?”

 

The space of the corridor feels claustrophobic, closing in to his throat and making it impossible for him to soundly utter complete sentences. “N - no, I -”  _ I’m in love with you and every tiny little touch of yours is driving me faster towards insanity knowing how much I want you and knowing how much I can’t have you.  _ “Yes,” he settles on at last, “Don’t.”

 

“What the hell, Leeteuk,” Heechul spits, and the use of his stage name is a metaphorical slap to the face, “If no one has disapproved of it and the fans like it more than original, then what’s your problem with it? Stop being such a -”

 

“A what?” he hisses out, the words that spin round and round in his brain caught in his ribcage, the words that he wants to pour out, the  _ i love you’s  _ and the  _ i’m so fucking scared i’ll screw up because your touch does funny things to my heart _ , “A prick who sticks to the rules?”

 

“There are no fucking rules!” Heechul explodes, his eyes downturned into a glare, “The fans love it Jungsoo, why can’t you understand? It doesn’t matter if you hate it or not - if the fans like it, it’s for the good of the group!”

 

There’s a silence that stretches between them, long and tense and insufferable. 

 

“As the leader I thought you would understand that, at least,” Heechul breathes out, and that’s when Jungsoo feels some odd feeling in him crack and snap and set his temper aflame.

 

“Don’t drag my role into this.” The words burst past his lips, like a barely-contained pit of molten lava brimming at the surface of a volcano, and he reaches forward to grab at Heechul’s collar roughly, “Why can’t you just go with it?”

 

“Go with what?” This time Heechul’s the one who grabs his collar out of retaliation, a sunset-red flare across his cheeks out of both frustration and irritation, neatly-styled hair beginning to slip out of places, straying locks matted across pale skin and fingers curling around the ebony of his outfit. “Go with your stupid words instead of doing what the fans prefer? Why are you being so damn unreasonable?”

 

Jungsoo tries to move back, yanking himself free of Heechul’s grip, but the younger by nine days has a vice-like hold on him that’s a lot stronger than he expected, and all he achieves is loosening the clutch a little bit while simultaneously slamming his back against the wall. He’s aware of the staff members walking along the aisles pausing to stare at them with widened eyes, and of the idols also attending the show ducking their heads and hurrying away with expressions akin to fear and surprise plastered across their faces.

 

He can’t find it in himself to care anymore.

 

“I’m not being unreasonable, why can’t we just follow the original choreography like how we’re supposed to?” he half-shouts at Heechul, who scoffs at him with an irked downward twist of his lips.

 

They argue for - how long, he doesn’t know; ten minutes? Twenty? Thirty? - a long time, trading fired retorts back and forth that eventually transcend into a mess of insults and scornful snappings, and at some point Kyuhyun tries to pull him away from a punch thrown by Heechul and ends up getting hit in the face instead; both of them are too blinded by their own argument to pay attention to the youngest member who winces and sits back down trying to pretend that nothing’s wrong.

 

“Fine!” Heechul explodes at last, his voice shaking with tightly-curbed rage, and runs a hand through his hair with a bite down on his lip strong enough to draw blood. “Fine. We’ll go with your stupid original way, okay?”

 

It’s then that the producers stick their heads into the dressing room and calls for them to go up on stage. Jungsoo turns his shoulder to Heechul and the latter does likewise, and the walk to backstage is cold and silent and dreadful.

 

Onstage, the stage lights are vivid and flashing and so hot, burning into the exposed surfaces of his skin, yet nothing can seem to rival the hellfire that danced between him and Heechul earlier; when Heechul’s part comes, he moves up and the sparks of hostility that lay dormant for the few minutes of silence come alive again, moving in flurried storms, creating an invisible barrier that renders him from leaning back against Heechul, like two foes standing on opposite ends of two banks separating by cold rushing water.

 

The silence continues after that, still. It drags on after the performance, when they’re walking backstage, when they’re inside their dressing rooms changing into more comfortable outfits, when they’re clambering aboard the van to go back to the dorms. The rest of the members can sense the tension blazing between the two eldest members, and they fall into an awkward, unsettled quietness as well, conversations only being resumed in warily hushed tones inside their dorm rooms.

 

That night, he doesn’t think of Heechul, and despite the clash of anger and fury and sorrow and regret and everything in between boiling under his skin and in the crevices of his heart, there’s a small part of his heart that’s thankful, that’s glad, because this is the biggest fight they’ve ever had and perhaps this can be his salvation - perhaps with this he can finally fall out of love with Kim Heechul.

 

He closes his eyes, and lets himself rest.

 

That night, he does not dream of Heechul.

  
  
  


The silence drags on for a lot longer than he originally expected. They’re on tour, and despite pulling off all their stage performances perfectly - complete with impersonal brushes of skin on skin, fingers intertwined with fingers as they take their bows, neat camera-worthy smiles to the fans - they’re well aware that every interaction that happens under the stage lights is little more than a masquerade.

 

They have not spoken for three months. They have not even interacted, not once, aside from bodily contact that is unavoidable because they end up next to each other on stage, or because of their choreography. 

 

Jungsoo speaks to everyone with the same kind smile and gentle tone. Everyone except Heechul.

 

Heechul speaks to everyone with the same boisterous humour and stowed-away concern. Everyone except Jungsoo.

 

Jungsoo realises it hurts more than he thought it would.

 

Jungsoo realises it’s getting harder and harder to smile and pretend everything’s okay when it’s not, not anymore, 

 

Jungsoo realises it’s hard to answer when a look of consternation crosses his own features and others are asking him ‘what’s wrong’ and he doesn’t know how to reply when nothing is right.

 

Jungsoo realises he is still deeply, unceasingly, grievously in love with Heechul.

 

One day Ryeowook’s walking next to him alone while the others are getting their make-up done, and the younger of the two hesitates a little before asking hesitantly, “Hyung, when are you and Heechul going to make up?”

 

That’s when it crashes upon Jungsoo - the realisation that he and Heechul are very much members of Super Junior - the awareness that their at-odds with one another have been affecting the group - the cognizance that Super Junior hasn’t been quite the same and  _ it’s all their fault _ -

 

\- and what a terrible leader he has been.

 

This is not just a long drawn-out fight between two individuals - no, it is a war of nerves between two members of Super Junior, two  _ pillars  _ of the group, two members the younger ones are supposed to look to for support; the back of his throat burns, and he finds himself unable to reply to Ryeowook, choked back by how horrified and ashamed he is of himself.

 

He cannot drive a rift within the group like this - not Super Junior. Not at the culmination of their careers, not at this view from the top of a mountain they spent years and tears and smears of sweat against flushed skin trying to climb.

 

No, Super Junior must stay together; the pillars cannot shatter. Not like this. 

 

He is irrevocably in love with Heechul. But Super Junior is more important than that, more important than his feelings, more important than Heechul’s feelings. The amalgamation of the dreams and hard work and the sufferings of different individuals united as one whole under the same name.

 

To him, that name matters the most. Not his own. Not Heechul’s.

 

He sucks in a breath, and then turns to Ryeowook who has been awaiting his response patiently. “I promise we will,” he breathes out in a rush of air, creasing his lips upwards into a gentle smile, “Soon.”

 

Jungsoo decides resolutely that he will diffuse every air of awkwardness and tension wafting still between himself and Heechul by the end of the day.

 

By the time he keeps to his word, it is midnight, or perhaps a few minutes past. Their concert in the USA has finished successfully, and they’re celebrating with an afterparty - not a large one boasting grandiose with every polished wineglass catching the millions of colours reflected in dancing chandelier lights, but rather a small private one in their hotel rooms, a few wine bottles here and there paired with ordered food.

 

“Hey,” he is the first one to speak to Heechul, and clearly everyone else sees or hears as well, because the entire room once filled with laughter and loud chattering falls deathly silent as though he had just announced the onset of an apocalypse. 

 

The members all freeze midway through their different stages of activity (Siwon’s frozen in a laughing expression while Hyukjae has mouth opened halfway through a conversation, Donghee almost spills wine on himself and Kyuhyun chokes on his food), and Jungsoo almost physically winces as he realises how estranged he and Heechul must have seemed over the past three months for them to react like this (even Donghae’s staring at him like he just sprouted a new limb).

 

“Yes?” Heechul’s response comes uncertainly, tentatively, his eyes darting across Jungsoo’s face from left to right to centre to the floor, then the wall, to the wine glass in Jungsoo’s hand, then back to his face. 

 

“Let’s have a drink,” he offers in a hasty breath before he can lose track of his determination and blurt out an ‘I’m sorry it was nothing’. He sees the way Heechul’s eyes flicker once with a conglomeration of emotion ranging from surprise to wariness, and holds out the wine glass he grips delicately willing his hands not to tremble too much. 

 

There’s a hush that falls upon them, and it rises to a deafening roar in his ears, making his head spin and his breath catch in his larynx.

 

He can hear his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears and the slight hitch in Heechul’s breath as he stares at the wine glass; at the back of his mind, he wonders if the other members are even breathing at all, given the way they’ve been rooted to their spots - even their expressions are frozen like rivers in winter - for a full minute now.

 

“Okay,” Heechul says simply.

 

Their fingers brush lightly as Heechul reaches out to accept the glass of wine, and Jungsoo has to use the most of his willpower to avoid breaking down right then and there because he’s so glad, so glad that it’s finally over.

 

He is still in love with Heechul, and Heechul is still blind to the cries of his beating heart.

 

The lights are still dim, barely flickering, the roads dark and hardly visible.

 

But they are okay now, and Super Junior is okay now.

 

And to him, that is more important than the lonely lullabies that his heart sings towards Heechul.

 

For now, everything is okay again.


	4. the first time

Jungsoo personally thinks that, with the way his heart does somersaults and backflips all the time when he’s around Heechul, he’s had more than his fair share of dramatics, especially involving Heechul.

 

Fate, of course, running its usual course, fails to agree with him.

 

The encounter is not an unpleasant one - quite the contrary, in fact, a meeting long overdue. It happens at the crack of dawn, when he’s standing outside a coffee shop waiting for his manager to get the orders of coffee, and someone dressed in a rather unremarkable black-grey outfit strides past.

 

The person’s footsteps slow to a halt, and then, in accented Korean, “Leeteuk-hyung?”

 

The weather is calm, innocuous clouds grey-white and woollen with the possible prospect of light drizzle, but to him it feels as though a lightning bolt had been struck through his soul.

 

“H - Hangeng?” He trips over his own words, and the way the name rolls of his tongue feels familiar but peculiar.

 

It’s him, it’s really him standing right in front of the coffee shop mask uncovering only his kind eyes, it’s really him, the same former member of Super Junior, the one who left without last words, the one who they all wept over after he left, the one who rendered Heechul shattered.

 

“I’m so glad to see you, what brings you here, are you doing well?” The questions fly out one after another, and by the time he shuts up Hangeng is chuckling lightly.

 

“I can’t stay long, especially since we’re in public,” Hangeng speaks softly, as he always does, his eyes flicking to the side to make sure no one is watching their interaction, “But it was nice meeting you.”

 

“You’re not going to ask how everything’s going?” he blurts out before he can stop himself.  _ Don’t you care about how we’re doing anymore? _

 

Hangeng cracks a smile, visible only from the tiny shifting motions of his mask. “I know,” he replies calmly. “I’ve been in contact with Heechul.”

 

_ Wait - what? _

 

“He was really mad at me,” Hangeng confesses with a sheepish crinkling of the eyes, “He yelled at me over the internet multiple times. I heard that you comforted him though, and that’s good.”

 

For a fleeting moment, Jungsoo wonders if Heechul and Hangeng had ever been in love. An irrational thought, he knows, and he’s annoyed at himself for assuming anything more of their close friendship - and then the logical part of his mind brushes it away, because Heechul likes women, not men, as proven from the number of girlfriends he’s had over the years, and he doesn’t know if it’s supposed to make him feel better because it doesn’t, not in the slightest.

 

“Can I request one thing of you?” Hangeng queries suddenly.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Please take care of Heechul,” Hangeng says, and his gaze that bores into Jungsoo’s is a kaleidoscope of emotions and memories and nostalgia that compels Jungsoo to agree, “He doesn’t get other people sometimes, and he gets lonely and sad although he doesn’t say it or hides it as much as he can, sometimes he’s smiling but he’s been crying all night, he enjoys company and concern even if he pretends to push everyone away, but sometimes he’s laughing hard when in reality he just wants to be by himself.” He pauses for breath before continuing, “Now I can’t be his best friend that’s by his side all the time anymore, so please take care of him on my behalf and make sure he’s happy.”

 

He sucks in a breath, and a moment of  _ why me? Why are you entrusting Heechul’s happiness to me?  _ flashes through his mind.

 

There’s a chiming noise as the door swings open, and Jungsoo whirls around to see his manager exiting with cups of coffee, and with a breathless whisper of “okay” to Hangeng he hastens his pace to catch up to his manager.

 

“You have this schedule and the music show a little later on,” his manager informs, and his head is spinning too much from the encounter with Hangeng to focus on whatever else he says, “... and tomorrow you have nothing except Heechul’s farewell party.”

 

Ah.

 

The notion that Heechul, too, is leaving for his military service is odd. He can barely believe it himself, that he would go for a long time without properly chatting to Heechul - of course, they have technology, but it’s not quite the same as nights spent drinking cheap store-bought beer together, not quite the same as awkwardly endearing conversations between two minds of opposite thoughts meeting together in some sort of common ground, not quite the same as being right there, right by his side to see the crinkles on his face when he smiles so bright he could light up the entire country, not quite the same as feeling his body tremble as he tries his best to hold back emotions welling up in the depths of his heart.

 

It’s not quite the same, and it won’t be for - how long? Two years - and then some, because Jungsoo suspects he will have to enlist soon too, considering how he’s the same age as Heechul.

 

Everything has passed by in a whirlwind of events ever since he was hit with the self-realisation that he was - is - in love with Kim Heechul. And now they are going to be separated for years on end; and then what?

 

His heart aches even though he has not even said goodbye to Heechul yet. The years ahead seem too bleak, too empty, too lonely. 

 

At the back of his mind, he wonders if it is possible to fall out of love with Heechul in the years that he will be gone for.

 

But he is also acutely aware of the fact that it is close to impossible to, because this is not goodbye, this is not a final farewell, because he will see Heechul again and his feelings will come rushing back to him just like they did the first day he realised he was in love.

 

The end of the day comes to a close faster than he expects it to, and before he knows it he’s stumbling onto stage again and they’re calling the name Super Junior and the fans’ screams are ringing in his ears - he tries his best not to trip over himself as he moves in front to accept the trophy, and then they pass him the microphone, and then he looks at Heechul, and then - ah fuck, he’s crying, the corners of his eyes are shimmering with the telltale sign of tears, and when he clears his throat and tries to speak his voice almost fails him.

 

He gets through his speech some way, somehow, barely, but still; his vision is blurred at the end of it all, and he can barely see who is the one who takes the microphone from him, but one faint touch on his shoulder is enough to tell him that it is Heechul. Heechul’s speaking, and his voice rings all around Jungsoo, and he’s laughing as if everything’s okay, as if he isn’t leaving in a matter of days, as if he isn’t going to disappear to some place that isn’t their dorm, as if he isn’t going to leave Jungsoo there alone and in love with him and missing him every day and as if everything is perfectly fine when it isn’t, and -

 

Jungsoo finds himself crying harder to the sounds of Heechul’s carefree laughter.

 

_ I miss you, and you haven’t even left yet. _

  
  
  


They throw a party the next day - not a fancy, full-blown one, of course, Heechul might kill them if they did that; instead, it’s a simple one held on the 12th floor, a few servings of wine and Ryeowook’s homemade cooking here and there as well as a cake that they tried their best to make, although the decorations are a little over-the-top, courtesy of Donghae and Donghee.

 

Except that it isn’t really isn’t a  _ few _ servings of wine, per say, more like their entire collection of alcohol save the store-bought cans of beer in Heechul’s room. Donghae’s the first to get drunk after a number of glasses, with crimson cheeks and slurred words and flinging his body across the sofa. 

 

It doesn’t take long for the others to get intoxicated, either - Jungsoo tries his best to stay somewhat conscious, only having had a small number of glasses (not enough for him to collapse on the ground drunk, but enough for him to have to sort through his muddled thoughts before speaking). “I’ll miss you, hyung,” Ryeowook whines as he clings to Heechul’s arm, and the other members chime in with variations of what Ryeowook said, various sniffles and over-dramatic sobs sprinkled here and there.

 

Silence settles over them for a moment, and for a second Jungsoo thinks that the mood of the party is going to transform into a sentimental one to fit Heechul’s leaving for enlistment - and then Hyukjae speaks up with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, coupled with telltale red cheeks and breath smelling too strong of alcohol, “It’s not like Heechul-hyung’s gonna die, why the heck are we all being so mushy for?”

 

His words are immediately received with howls of laughter and loud cheering and an unnecessarily ear-splitting chorus of agreements. Jungsoo sighs - honestly, what else could he have expected from their group? - and resigns himself to the fact that there will never be a moment of peace in this place.

 

He does not know how much time passes - an hour? Two? - but he is well aware that it is late by the time the members lie collapsed in various states of drunkenness across the floors of the dorm on the twelfth floor. Donghae passed out a long time ago on the sofa, and was joined later by Jongwoon and Sungmin, and eventually Hyukjae and Kyuhyun decided that the space by the dining table would be a good place to fall unconscious in after their odd drinking battle. Truth be told, it wasn’t much of a drinking battle, more of them drinking until Hyukjae finally decided to pass out and Kyuhyun joining him because he was bored without his competitor.

 

Donghee and Siwon get knocked out at some point, too, for he is on the way to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water when he sees Siwon sprawled out on the ground in a less gentlemanly manner than the man would’ve liked to believe, and not far away was Donghee in a similar state of unconsciousness. 

 

The only ones left past that were himself, Heechul, and Ryeowook, who took to clinging tightly to Heechul and moving through a wide range of cute expressions, mostly involving begging Heechul to stay, to which the older of the two laughed at and apologised for not being able to.

 

Just as Jungsoo thinks about how relieving it is that Ryeowook has yet to lose hold of his consciousness and is still helping to prevent an awkward moment between himself and Heechul, he promptly decides to pass out on the sofa on top of Donghae.

 

_ Well then. _

 

Heechul is the first to speak, taking a sip from his wine glass with an amused smile. “You didn’t drink as much as them, huh?”

 

“I’m the leader, I have a dignity to uphold,” he says jokingly, watching as Heechul snorts and mutters out a ‘what dignity’ while finishing off the last of the cake still on his plate.

 

“How am I going to cope when you’re gone?” he blurts out all of a sudden, and his cheeks burn red-hot as he feels Heechul’s gaze piercing into him.

 

“What do you mean?” Heechul chuckles as he carefully lowers himself onto the armrest of the sofa so as to not accidentally sit on top of Ryeowook and Donghae. “You’ll do fine. You always have.”

 

Jungsoo makes a small noise of dissent, but decides to change the topic anyway. “How do you feel about going to the army? It seems pretty surreal, to be honest.”

 

Heechul smiles faintly. “It does, doesn’t it?” He leans back, forgetting that he is perched only on the armrest, and nearly falls off the sofa. “Stop laughing - anyway, yeah, it does feel odd. But at the same time, I feel kind of bad, useless - I mean, I -” He hesitates for a moment’s breath, “You know, my leg and everything…”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Jungsoo protests immediately, “Please don’t beat yourself up over it.”

 

Heechul smiles. It’s bitter. “I know, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling bitter. Some days it hurts more than others, especially after dances or when it’s raining non-stop - and it really just makes me feel like complete shit, y’know? I feel so useless, so - ugh.”

 

“You are  _ not _ ,” the words fall out of Jungsoo’s mouth instinctively, and Heechul looks surprised at the conviction written in every syllable, “Please don’t think like that.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Heechul says quietly, “I get too honest at times like these.”

 

Jungsoo runs his eyes over Heechul’s face, quietly drinking in every feature that he vows to commit to memory before Heechul leaves - the way his eyes reflect the light like the dance of a million stars, the way his lips are curved into a spiteful smile, the way his hair’s a mess and the way he’s still the most perfect creature that Jungsoo has ever seen.

 

“I don’t mind,” he assures, “I’ll be here to listen.”

 

His heart wants to burst out of his chest as Heechul begins to fall into a spiel of conflicted words, a mix of emotion and pain and frustration woven into each of his sentences.

 

_ Is this what love feels like?  _ Jungsoo wonders distantly,  _ To have someone’s sufferings hurt you as though you are the one suffering, to feel like you are burning from the inside out and freezing from the outside, making you wish you could spend every living second by their side and also wishing you could die if it would just take their pain away. _

 

“Jungsoo, I-” Heechul’s trying not to cry, he knows, he understands Heechul better now, “- What do I do now?”

 

“I will always be here to support you,” he whispers hoarsely.

 

_ Is this what love feels like? As though my entire soul is being taken apart by him, as though he has found a place in my heart and it is his and only his and always his from now till forever? Like never ever wanting to let go of him even though you know there isn’t any chance? Like wanting to bend the fate of life and creating a chance out of absolutely nothing? _

 

“Why? Why me?” Heechul asks, and this time his voice cracks and he clears his throat quickly in an attempt to hide it.

 

“Because I love you,” he wants to answer so desperately, but he keeps his mouth shut tight, continuing to look at Heechul quietly - up until a tear rolls down Heechul’s face for real, and then he’s right by Heechul’s side, the touch of his skin soft against Heechul’s as he wipes the tear away.

 

“Sometimes I think about it,” Heechul comments hollowly, “And I wonder who would ever be crazy enough to love a broken person like me.”

 

The rest of his words fade away and his breath is cut short by Jungsoo’s lips upon his.

 

Jungsoo’s hands move from his cheek to cupping his jaw tenderly, wrapping his other hand around the back of Heechul’s head and bringing him closer, burying his fingers in Heechul’s uncombed locks, and he ignores the way Heechul lets out a muffled noise that might be a request for more, or a protest, or simply an utterance of surprise, he doesn’t know and at this point he’s so intoxicated by Heechul that he doesn’t care anymore. He tilts Heechul’s chin up, just slightly, and kisses Heechul with everything that he possibly has.

 

His heart is leaping in his chest, and the intensity of the feelings is so strong that the spiral of burning emotion is almost tangible in the heat that flutters across his skin and lights his cheeks up in a dark red hue. 

 

He probes Heechul’s mouth with his tongue, and Heechul's lips part slightly, just enough for him to taste the chocolate cream still lingering on the man’s tongue. Heechul tastes like the flavour of the cake, and of alcohol and of Ryeowook’s homemade food. Jungsoo commits that to memory, too, because in that very moment it is as though all the lights are beginning to flicker on and everything has righted itself and his entire world is cascaded in unfamiliar brightness.

 

Kissing Heechul is like drinking in the pure rays of sunlight reflected upon fresh morning dew on spring dawns, like running and laughing free in the warm embrace of summer, like playing among the orange-gold leaves brought by autumn, like standing out in the quiet open and feeling snowflakes of first snow against his cheek. Kissing Heechul is like standing in the middle of a storm cold and windy when winter is melting into spring, like watching leaves brown and die and fall to the ground to be treaded upon and discarded without so much as a second glance. 

 

Kissing Heechul is the best and worst thing he has ever done in his life.

 

It is his sweetest salvation, his darkest destruction, his rainbow piercing through downcast droplets of rain, his thunderburst and strike of lightning in the middle of a sunny day. 

 

It is his greatest desire, his greatest regret.

 

And then he snaps back to reality, to  _ I shouldn’t be doing this _ , to kissing Heechul one more time, softer and gentler and more tender this time, before pulling away and running his gaze all over Heechul’s features.

 

He finds that he does not understand the swirl of emotions rushing through Heechul’s eyes this time.

 

“Jungsoo,” Heechul gasps out, breathless and strands of hair brushing across his forehead from when Jungsoo ran his hands through his hair, eyes wild and confused and blazing into Jungsoo’s soul, “Are you drunk?”

 

_ Maybe I am. Maybe I am not. _

 

_ I don’t know anymore. _

 

_ Whether I’m drunk or sober, I would have done it anyway. _

 

He stares at Heechul, he stares at Heechul hard, and tears nearly come to his eyes because how can Heechul be sitting in front of him like that, how can Heechul be acting as though nothing happened, how can Heechul -  _ how can you not feel the same way that I do? _

 

His heart sings and vibrates and trembles in his chest all at once, his tears well up in the corners of his eyes and threaten to spill out and he has to choke them back with the full extent of his willpower. It feels as though his world has finally gained the shimmers of a million lights, it feels as though the void he never knew existed in his soul has finally been bridged, it feels as though everything is okay again.

 

It is the first time he kissed Heechul.

 

And if he could, he would freeze time right where it ticks, stop the world on its axis and replay the moment over, and over, and over again. So that he can kiss Heechul for the first time for the second, third, fourth, hundredth time.

 

It is an odd feeling, to know how badly he will regret it yet yearning so desperately for it to happen again and again and again.

 

This moment, the last moment before years of not seeing each other - Jungsoo knows that this lingering kiss, this moment of impulsion and salvation and everything he has been waiting for since the first time he realised he was in love with Heechul, will be his destruction.

 

But trailing his eyes again over Heechul’s face, beautiful and perfect even with his lips parted in shock and hair sticking out in odd places and cheeks still tinted pink where Jungsoo’s fingers touched them, he realises that if he were given the chance, he would still do it over again.

 

He chooses not to reply to Heechul, because he fears that if he were to open his mouth only the words  _ I love you _ would be able to escape. And he cannot risk that, not now, not even after he has kissed Heechul.

 

Because Heechul does not feel the same way.

 

And so, this first kiss, this funny thing that has spent butterflies spiralling in his stomach and fireworks exploding across his chest; this sweet, sweet salvation of his shall be passed off as a drunken mistake.

 

Because Heechul does not feel the same way.

 

“Goodnight, Heechul,” is what he manages to utter at last, his voice barely above a whisper, before he lowers himself onto the floor and shuts his eyes. He pretends to fall asleep immediately, imitating the slow up-down movement of the chest that people have when they are asleep, and yet does not sleep up until he hears Heechul shuffle away and head towards his own bedroom.

 

There is the  _ click _ of the bedroom door signalling that Heechul has entered, and that is when Jungsoo finally allows sleep to claim him.

 

When he awakens the next morning, he will have to act as though he was completely drunk, as though he cannot remember the very memory that sears through his mind clearer to him than his own name, his own age, his own identity.

 

But as he falls asleep, he can still remember the taste of Heechul’s lips against his.


	5. hanging

When he wakes up, he stirs and sits up, looking around the messy dorm for a moment before he snaps to reality and leans back with a soft groan - it’s not like he drank enough to be stuck with a terrible hangover, but with one glance towards Heechul’s rooms he’s aware that he doesn’t have much of a choice aside from acting ridiculously hungover.

 

“Ugh, what happened last night? I don’t remember anything aside from the taste of cake,” he moans, seeing a very groggy and disgruntled Sungmin.  _ The taste of cake on Heechul’s lips _ , his heart wants to tell to the world, but he keeps his jaw tightly clenched and continues with his facade.

 

The rest of the members wake up at some point - Sungmin and Siwon are the first one awake, with Siwon getting off the floor and striding to one of the chairs as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred before calling his manager to get him home, and shortly after Jungsoo awakens Ryeowook and Kyuhyun get up too; Kyuhyun is perfectly fine, but Ryeowook on the other hand sits in the same position for about five minutes attempting to get his head to stop spinning.

 

He hears the sound of a door creaking, and immediately tenses; after all, Heechul was the only one aside from himself and Kyuhyun, who had decided to just sleep anyway, sober enough to make his own way back to his room to rest.

 

“Good morning,” he greets, purposely making his voice as befuddled and raw as possible. “What happened last night? I can’t remember a thing.”

 

Heechul holds his gaze for longer than normal, and he can see a storm of emotions passing through Heechul’s eyes. Uncertainty, anger, sadness, curiosity… Disgust? 

 

Jungsoo wishes he could shrink away from the searching gaze, yet he has to force himself to continue with his little self-masquerade, smiling like a fool and pretending that he does not recall a single detail when he can recollect every single second of it clearer than the sun’s rays at dawn.

 

“Nothing much happened,” Heechul replies vaguely, and if Jungsoo didn’t know everything that transpired the night before he would have thought Heechul was telling the truth. 

 

Heechul holds his gaze for a second more, and then promptly turns away and heads into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. The members belonging to the 11th floor eventually manage to sober up enough to wander to their own dorm, and with scattered groans here and there the ones on the 12th floor make their way sluggishly to their rooms.

 

They do not speak to each other, not at lunch, not at dinner, not before they go to sleep. It is not noticeable to the others because they’re all immersed in daily conversations, but it hangs thick and too prominent between the two of them. 

 

“Heechul,” he is the one to speak, twelve midnight when he sees Heechul still not sleeping, and he feels Heechul’s gaze -  _ your gaze has gone cold, did you hate the kiss so much?  _ \- resting on him upon the soft utterance of his name. “Serve well, and I’ll see you again in a while.”

 

“Thanks,” Heechul responds, all polite and distant and hollow.

 

Those are the last words that they exchange with one another before Heechul leaves to fulfill his two-year military service. They catch snippets of him here and there, published on online websites, of his greeting to fans and final smiles and waves before he’s ushered into the centre.

 

At first, Jungsoo thinks that he will be okay. Perhaps it’s because of the sheer awkwardness that existed between the two of them during Heechul’s last day in the dorm before his military service, or maybe it’s because they have so many schedules it’s difficult to even think straight, but for a while Heechul’s absence does not hurt him as much as he previously feared.

 

It only hits him a while after Heechul has left, when they are on a variety program and someone says that Heechul would have cracked a witty joke at. It only hits him when they are eating out at a restaurant and they ask for ten seats before realising that there are only nine members present. It only hits him when it’s his turn to set the table for dinner and he places a pair of chopsticks down at the usual spot where Heechul sits.

 

And how he misses Heechul.

 

He misses the jokes that only Heechul has the guts to crack, he misses seeing Heechul seated at the dining table at his usual spot waiting for Ryeowook to bring out the food, he misses running down to the convenience store when the managers don’t know in the dead of the night so he can buy unhealthy snacks and cans of beer.

 

Ryeowook is the first one to notice, with the other members in the 12th floor dorm often running to the 11th floor or staying in their own rooms and whatnot. “Hyung,” he brings up one day as Jungsoo sits knees curled against his body watching the television with an idle stare, “Are you sad?”

 

“Sad? Sad about what?” he asks, too quickly perhaps. “I’m not. There isn’t anything to be sad about.”

 

Ryeowook gives him an odd look, and then says flatly, “You miss Heechul-hyung, don’t you?”

 

Jungsoo makes a little strangled noise at the back of his throat - he thought he had been holding up his mask pretty well for the past couple of months - and turns to look at Ryeowook, mulling over his words before finally settling on, “Was it obvious?”

 

His reply is a small sound of disbelief, and Ryeowook shakes his head as if every word that leaves Jungsoo’s mouth is complete nonsense. “ _ Hyung _ ,” he half-whispers gently, moving to take a seat next to Jungsoo, “Hyung, that doesn’t matter. All of us cried when Heechul-hyung left - we  _ all _ miss him, and we still do. You - I don’t know what’s passing through your head, but you don’t have to stay strong or whatever it is you’re doing, you know-? It shouldn’t matter if it’s obvious or not, hyung, we  _ all _ miss him and I think I’ll keep missing him up until the day he comes back home.”

 

Jungsoo inhales sharply; the revelation is startling, and only now he is able to read the sadness permeating Ryeowook’s eyes as he speaks.  _ Oh. Of course the other members miss him too. It’s not weird to miss Heechul.  _ The words play over and over in his head.  _ I can miss Heechul, too. _

 

It’s funny how you look at everything differently when you’re in love. 

 

“Thank you, Ryeowook-ah,” he mutters, and then adds with a bitter smile, “I miss him.”

 

“See, it wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Ryeowook questions, all kind smiles and calm words, “We all miss him.”

 

But he does not understand the way Jungsoo’s heart dances in solitary spirals - he does not understand the way Jungsoo misses Heechul.

 

They say that they feel the same, the members do.

 

And so do the fans - of course they miss Heechul, and he cannot blame them, for it is all too tempting to want to devote oneself to someone as unique as Heechul - always ever-loyal and promising to wait for Heechul amidst their tears and sobbings.

 

But none of them, not the fans nor the members, can understand the same way he misses Heechul.

 

It’s just not quite the same when you’re in love with someone.

 

What hurts more is how no one can know, no one can even  _ pretend _ to understand him, no one can comfort him during the nights that are silent and he is left to his own thoughts and missing Heechul too much, because no one can ever know of his feelings.

 

Perhaps life would be easier if he never joined Super Junior, and if he never met Heechul.

 

But then again, he reflects as he stares up at his ceiling unable to sleep for what seems like the hundredth time in a row, he will never regret joining Super Junior, nor will he regret ever knowing the person known as Kim Heechul.

 

No one ever said love was easy, much less life.

 

_ Why am I in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same? Why am I in love alone?  _ He laments over these questions all the time. This night, as he wills sleep to come, he replies to his own questions.

 

_ Only time will tell. _

  
  
  


Missing Heechul eventually becomes a numb ache somewhere in the recesses of his heart. Heechul is always in the labyrinth of his heart, always existing in the corners of his brain, but for a while he does not conjure up thoughts of Heechul into his conscious mind.

 

In the October of 2012, he leaves for military service. It helps him to take his mind off Heechul, and as he turns to wave at the fans and the members and mouths a ‘thank you’, he distantly wonders if this is what Heechul felt seconds before officially beginning his military life - drinking in the screams of the fans and their sorrowful goodbyes, casting long wistful gazes across their faces contorted with tears, turning back one last time to look at everyone who has come to bid him farewell, bowing and saying ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’ for the last time for a couple of years.

 

Partway through his enlistment service - it has not been a easy journey, but along the way he adapted well to the life of a soldier - he receives news that Heechul has returned from his service, and he wishes he could be there to greet Heechul, but being an active duty soldier limits him; instead, he settles with catching glimpses of Heechul and the rest of the group on television when he gets the chance to.

 

His desire to meet Heechul again is so strong it is almost tangible, shuddering through his spine, but the day it happens he wishes the day never came.

 

“Your father is dead,” they tell him out of the blue, “Your grandparents as well.”

 

He gets into the car to head back to Seoul, his head spinning and rushing with thoughts that overwhelm him to the point of him wanting to throw up. 

 

And now, everything is not okay again.

 

The first time he sees Heechul again after years, it is when they are standing in all-black clothes, grim expressions across their faces, because half of his family is dead and he has returned from his service to mourn for them.

 

Heechul looks across the room at him with an apprehension that Jungsoo feels too numb to be hurt by, but as he crosses the room the doubt and iciness fades from his gaze and Jungsoo feels Heechul’s arms tight around his body holding him close. “Are you okay?” he whispers, any shred of awkwardness absent from his voice, and Jungsoo clings onto his warmth as though it is the only thing still keeping him alive.

 

_ Of course I’m not.  _ He continues to allow himself to indulge in Heechul’s comforting embrace for a little while longer, before he steps back with a cynical sad smile across his features. “Will it ever be okay?”

 

Does the pain ever really go away?   
  


Heechul cannot do anything more than bowing his head and choking out a dismal, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

 

Can the pain ever really go away?

 

He cries a lot that day. He is constantly trapped in a state of mind that is somewhere between aggrieved and broken, and it is hard,  _ so hard _ , stumbling from person to person to shake hands with them and share in their grief during the funeral.

 

_ I’m sorry that I was not a good enough son. _

 

_ I’m sorry that I could not do anything to prevent this. _

 

_ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. _

 

Jungsoo learns what it feels like to crack apart one piece at a time until all the shards are scattered far away from his soul.

 

He tries his hardest to stifle the tears that creep into every choked-out word of his, he tries his hardest to survive through it all, even when they come up to him and tell him that the responsibility to pay his father’s debt has been passed onto him.

 

He bows his head respectfully and affirms to it.

 

In that moment, he bitterly reflects that life isn’t supposed to be  _ this _ hard.

 

And then familiar arms are wrapped around him, and he finds himself crying and shedding every tear that reflects his split-open heart into the shoulder of whoever it is that smells faintly of peach blossoms, and he cries and cries until his throat is raw and too dry for anymore sound to escape, and he cries and cries until the tears are all dry against his cheeks and his legs are too weak to hold his body upright.

 

“They’re gone, Heechul-ah,” he whispers numbly, not having to look up to recognise who it is that is holding him so close, “They’re gone, and it feels so unreal even if I know full well that they’re dead.”

 

“Only you can get over this by yourself,” Heechul tells him, voice heavy with sadness and sympathy, and reaches out to support him when Jungsoo’s legs really do give out on him, “We’ll always be here for you, but we cannot fight your battle for you.”

 

“I feel so empty inside, like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and my soul doesn’t exist more,” he blurts out, the mess of thoughts in his head too much for him to contain, “It doesn’t feel real. What is this? What is - this can’t be real… damn it…”

 

Heechul’s grip tightens a little more, and he feels Heechul rubbing little circles along his back. “One day, it will feel real, but one day you will accept it too. One day you’ll meet them again, and until then, Jungsoo, please keep hanging on.”

 

He’s never felt like giving up more than at this very moment. “It’s hard, Heechul,” he sobs into the man’s shoulder, his words coming out muffled and tangled, “It’s so hard. How could I ever come to terms with it, knowing my grandparents were -” He cannot finish his sentence, but he’s aware that Heechul understands him perfectly, “- knowing  _ he _ was in that state of mind, knowing that I wasn’t a good enough son, knowing that-”

 

“Jungsoo, no, no,  _ no _ .” Heechul pulls away and looks him in the eye,  _ really _ looks him in the eye, making Jungsoo feel like his gaze is enough to pierce into his soul even if he feels like he no longer has one, “No. You are - you were never - an unworthy son, and this doesn’t have anything to do with you, please don’t blame yourself over everything. This is a difficult fight, Jungsoo, and no one can battle it except for you yourself. But please, Jungsoo-” He can hear the desperate plea in Heechul’s voice, and it breaks his heart even more, “- Please, you don’t have to stay strong. You can show all the vulnerable broken sides, all the  _ human _ sides of you. But at the very least, please don’t give up. Please continue fighting for us.  _ Live for the living,  _ Jungsoo, please - live for  _ us _ .”

 

Jungsoo feels Heechul’s arms around him again, and this time he’s surprised at the wetness he feels against his own shoulder. “Please, Jungsoo,” Heechul whispers hoarsely into his ear, “You’re my only friend, so please never leave me.”

 

He almost recoils at the agony written in Heechul’s voice, the strong desolation, desperation.

 

“I’ll try my best,” he echoes back, because he isn’t quite sure whether he can make it a promise or not.

 

He’s made to return to service barely more than a couple days after the funeral, and throughout the remainder of his service he’s haunted by his father’s voice resonating too-clear in his own head, and at some point he thinks he might be going insane.

 

Through therapy sessions and medication to manage his mental health, he barely struggles through, constantly preoccupied with thoughts of his father, his grandparents, his own self-worth or lack thereof as a son, as a person, as Park Jungsoo -

 

He is forced to take ragged breaths, to smile and say he is okay when everything he has ever known is crashing down all around him, so instead he holds up the walls around his heart for as long as he can possibly withstand until he is allowed to return to the military dorm where he swallows down pill after pill with increasing distress.

 

The letters come in day after day, telling him to stay strong, to keep fighting, to keep shining. All he can do is smile and try to mask the emptiness of his soul.

 

All he can do is continue saying that he is okay when nothing is okay.

 

It is dark, very dark, darker than the blackest of nights.

 

All of the lights have gone out, and the darkness encloses him like a yawning abyss waiting to consume him whole, and nothing is okay.

 

Through sleepless nights tortured hour after hour by memories playing back over and over in his mind, through bottles of pills and therapy sessions, he wonders if it would better to stop fighting alone in this cruel world.

 

It would certainly be easier.

 

_ Live for the living, Jungsoo, please - live for us. _

 

Heechul’s soft murmur cuts through louder than his father’s shoutings in his ears, and he almost sits upright with a startled gasp as he struggles to recall all the words Heechul said to him that day.

 

Usually, it is the easiest thing in the world for him to memorise every word that leaves Heechul’s mouth - why is it so difficult when he needs to hear it again the most? These days, as he lies facing the ceiling dully, he no longer spends his nights lamenting over the  _ could be’s  _ with Heechul - the man only exists in a figment of his thoughts, a crack in his heart, for now his mind is overly consumed by plagues of death and depression and pain and everything either hurts too much or is too numb for him to think about happier (troubling, of course, but happier still) aspects of life.

 

_ Please never leave me. _

 

He hears Heechul’s voice again, soft but present, and he clings to those four words like they are the only thing that can pull him out of this hellish reality that he finds himself trapped in.

 

_ You have to make it out of here, Jungsoo,  _ he tells himself inwardly as he turns to face the wall so that the rest of the soldiers will not see the tears that stain his pillow,  _ If not for yourself, then for them. _

 

The pain will go away eventually. That’s what everyone says all the time, right?

 

He wants to believe in them.

 

It is quite possibly - no, it  _ is _ \- the hardest thing that he has ever done.

 

But he wants to live for a little longer, do all the things he has yet to do, walk together with his group a little while more. 

 

He doesn’t want to give up yet, not here, not now. 

 

It is the most difficult decision that he has ever made.

 

_ I want to live. _


	6. do you remember?

The pain does go away eventually. It fades away into a numb sensation somewhere in the broken crevices of his heart, and nowadays it feels as though they have just moved far away and lost contact with him. The pain goes away, but everything that it brought stays.

 

He suffers through the rest of his service with medication, therapy sessions, and Heechul’s words ringing in his ears.

 

Halfway through 2014, he is released from active military duty. He steps out, dressed in his soldier outfit, and sees the rows of fans holding banners waiting for him, and for a moment the perpetual throbbing of his heart stems a little.

 

He faces the crowd and salutes just as he’s been trained to, and they go wild, all wide smiles through tears and shouting out his name like a mantra over and over to celebrate his return.

 

_ Park Jungsoo! Park Jungsoo! _

 

He spends a few more minutes to greet the fans, to thank them for coming, before he makes his way over to the black van that is waiting at the side; a van that he recognises easily as the company’s. Waving one last time to the fans, he clambers into the familiar seats that he has not touched for too long, and buckles his seat belt with an anticipation he has not felt for a long time.

 

He goes to visit his mother and his sister, a cordial “I’m home” with the biggest smile he can muster, and he laughs gently as he’s wrapped in their respective embraces with both of them expressing how glad they are that he’s fine.

 

The next time the van begins to move, he doesn’t bother to hide the genuine smile that slips onto his face as he recognises the little bumps and swerves of the road; true to his thoughts, the van pulls to a halt outside a tall building he knows as well as his own name.

 

The dorm, where the members are. 

 

He cracks open the door to the 12th floor dorm and the first thing he notices is the members, all of them aside from Jongwoon who enlisted while he was still serving, even the ones who live in their own houses. Most of them are comically trying to squeeze into the ivory sofa in the living room, with a few cross-legged on the floor.

 

“Welcome back,” Youngwoon and Siwon chorus at the same time, and Jungsoo takes in the sight for a moment before bursting out in laughter and moving to hug all of the members one by one.

 

His heart has not felt this light for a long time.

 

He looks at Heechul for a moment, and he’s taken aback by the wariness written in the man’s gaze - what could he have done to turn Heechul cold?

 

_ Is it still the kiss from two, three years ago? _

 

An inward wince ripples through him as he realises that they never really resolved that issue - of course not, considering how he’s been pretending not to have any recollection of it - and that Heechul must have been speculating over it ever since that day.

 

Nevertheless, he’s kept up his facade for three years now, and he refuses to let it slip now; he pretends not to notice the uncomfortable tension hanging between them and wraps his arms around Heechul, feeling the younger by nine days stiffen slightly under his touch. “I missed you,” he whispered into Heechul’s ear, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder before pulling back from the embrace.

 

“Our leader is back!” Hyukjae yells, absolutely thrilled, and the rest of the members respond with similar levels of energy, although Jungsoo can’t help but notice that the way Heechul cheers is a little lacklustre compared to the rest.

 

The rest of the members don’t give him much time to mull over it, though, with all their bombardings of questions, of  _ hyung how was it was it hard?  _ and  _ hyung how was the food?  _ and  _ we really missed you a lot, did you miss us?  _ and  _ hyung did you watch us on TV?  _

 

He’s laughing as he answers each question one after another, and he’s glad, because it’s been a long time since he’s had the chance to feel happy like this.

 

He raises his eyes to meet Heechul’s watchful gaze, and instead of showing the surprise that ripples through his veins, he settles on a soft smile.

 

_ Didn’t you miss me? _

 

It takes him a while, and uncertainty is written in his features, but Heechul smiles back.

 

For now, that is enough.

  
  
  


“Jungsoo,” Heechul says at his doorstep at two-thirty in the morning, “Can we talk?”

 

He tries his best to play off the way his heartbeat increases exponentially and he stutters for a moment as his brain runs through all the possible scenarios for Heechul wanting to talk to him. “Sure, I have time.”

 

His response comes in a dry chuckle as Heechul closes the door behind them. “Yeah, didn’t think you were very busy at two in the morning.”

 

“So, what are you-”

 

Heechul wastes little time in letting him finish his sentence before launching into his question; something that Jungsoo is less than surprised about, but the question itself is what renders him speechless for a couple of seconds. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

 

“N - no,” Jungsoo stammers out with a laugh that sounds shaky across the still air, “Why would you think that?”

 

Aside from the dim glow emitting from the screen of his laptop, there is no light present in his room, yet Heechul’s gaze seems impossibly bright and piercing upon his skin. 

 

_ I cannot bring myself to love somebody, I can barely even bear the notion of it, when my dumb self is in love with you.  _ The words that run through his head get caught in his throat, and he is glad for it, because really, 2.30am isn’t that appropriate a time to be making a life-changing confession.

 

“Nothing, then,” Heechul answers with a faint smile and a motion towards the door, “That’s all I wanted to ask. Goodnight.”

 

Jungsoo watches as he leaves and shuts the door behind him with a soft  _ click _ . His eyebrows are furrowed, and as a sweet love song comes on next on his playlist he’s half-tempted to hurl the device, or his headphones maybe, across the room.

 

Why can’t he be like those male protagonists in all those popular dramas with perfect lives and perfect lovers and perfect everything? Why can’t he be attracted to someone - anyone - aside from his own teammate?

 

He opts to switch off his laptop, flopping back on his bed with a tired sigh filtering past his lips; love is a complicated thing, especially when the very person he loves is already akin to a puzzle with all his confusing moods and words.

 

_ Why is he asking me about my relationship status? _

 

For the faintest of moments, he allows his thoughts to take his mind to a place where his fantasies can bloom; and then he turns to shove his head into his pillow with a quiet crude laugh bubbling in his throat.

 

_ Don’t overthink, Jungsoo. _

 

_ It’s not because he loves you. _

  
  
  


“Jungsoo,” Heechul says when they’re standing alone in the practice room the following day during their break, with the other members going to get food or drinks or heading to the bathroom, and the leader starts at the sound of his own name being called, hoping that Heechul cannot hear how loudly his heart is pounding in his chest.

 

(Maybe he can, because for a moment Heechul’s eyes narrow and he studies Jungsoo for the briefest few seconds.)

 

Heechul hesitates, as if trying to decide what to say, and Jungsoo listens with rapt attention, not knowing what to expect from the man.

 

“I’m sorry,” Heechul speaks finally, and Jungsoo only blinks in a somewhat dumbfounded way in response for a couple of moments. That wasn’t what he had been expecting.

 

“For… what, exactly?” he probes cautiously.

 

Hyukjae and Donghae burst into the room with Siwon trailing after them, holding up plastic bags excitedly and yelling that the food has arrived. Jungsoo catches a conflicted expression flash across Heechul’s face before the latter promptly refuses to speak any further and instead moves towards the other members to grab lunch. 

 

The frustration gnaws away at him as he settles down onto the couch to eat lunch - Heechul is sitting right next to him, full of words that only he knows that Jungsoo desperately wants to know; is it something related to the group that would concern him as their leader? Is it some sort of thought that’s been troubling Heechul? Is it something about  _ them _ ?

 

The last thought terrifies him the most.

 

Heechul speaks his mind once the practice is over, when both of them are walking along the corridors to dispose of the trash from lunch. “I’m sorry for not being there better for you when you were going through a hard time,” Heechul states casually, almost as if it were just an afterthought occurring to him, and Jungsoo knows he’s just trying to lessen the seriousness that lies in his implications for Jungsoo’s sake - after all, he doesn’t specify exactly  _ what _ period of time it was, but both of them know it too well.

 

A state of mind that Jungsoo never wants to return to, ever, and he’s thankful to Heechul for his ability to touch on the topic without delving too deep into it.

 

“I’m sorry to you, too,” he gets out at last, seeing the confusion beginning to set across Heechul’s features, “I know you must’ve suffered a lot, but you were never the type to say it aloud, and I guess I should’ve taken the initiative to care more.”

 

Heechul falls into quiet hesitance, tossing the disposable containers into the rubbish bins before glancing Jungsoo’s way. “Do you want to get dinner tomorrow?”

 

“Sure,” Jungsoo accepts almost automatically - he’s so used to the members asking each other to casual dinners that he assumes immediately that Heechul has already arranged a dinner outing with some of the others, “Where and when?”

 

“Around six, maybe?” Heechul hums as they begin to walk towards the car park, “At the restaurant fifteen minutes from the dorm in that side alley that we used to walk by when we were trainees?”

 

Jungsoo can remember it clearly, peering through the windows as hungry trainees yearning for the more than appetising food placed on round white plates and promising that they’d return after debuting before running out of time to go anywhere for a meal upon debuting. “Sure,” he agrees easily, “Who else is coming?”

 

He isn’t quite expecting the response that Heechul gives. “Just the two of us,” he answers casually, as though it’s a perfectly normal thing for the two of them to be having a meal alone in the quiet corner restaurant; as though it’s a normal thing for the two of them to do things away from the group in general - as much as they trust each other, it’s not a common thing for them to even text each other, much less eat a meal together outside of the waiting rooms and company cafeterias.

 

“Why?” he finds himself asking automatically, a million possible replies flicking through his mind and creating a terrible sickening feeling at the bottom of his gut thinking of everything that could go wrong - if Heechul thought he had been acting weird, if Heechul needed to talk, if Heechul  _ knew _ …

 

Heechul shrugs. “Why not?” he questions, and the conversation ends at that.

 

Jungsoo watches as the enigmatic teammate hurries forward to get into the car, and as he slips into the backseat next to him Jungsoo can’t help but wonder if the one Heechul is keenly texting on his mobile phone is -  _ if there’s the slightest chance _ \- his girlfriend, or someone who he is interested in. 

 

He hates thinking like this.

 

_ But if less than 10% of the population feels the same way that I do _ , he traces his gaze over Heechul’s features, the faint smile curving his lips, eyes lit up by the bright reflection of his phone screen in the otherwise dimly-lit car, hair a mess after practice, the few strands that remain stubbornly sticking up instead of flat down like the rest of his hair.  _ Then what are the chances of Heechul -? _

 

He doesn’t have to finish asking himself the question; he’s admittedly terrible at doing math, but he knows full well that the probability does not amount to much.

 

He lets his eyes stray from Heechul’s face to the relaxing blur of Seoul city lights against dark grey skies through slightly tinted windows, and listens to the familiar mishmash of the other members arguing about the most pointless of things over the faint rumble of the engine as the vehicle makes its way over the usual bumps on the road. 

 

It’s a nice feeling, really, the sense of familiarity and comfort relaxing in the car, and a certain sense of affection rises in him as he opens his mouth to gently chide them to stop arguing - which, unsurprisingly, results in a two-second lapse of silence before they resume louder than ever - and for what feels like the millionth time in his life he’s stricken with the realisation that his group should mean more than everything else in the world.

 

They are twelve beating hearts, fourteen if you count Henry and Zhoumi’s, fifteen if you count Hangeng’s - and his own torn heart pales in comparison to the other fourteen.

 

The vehicle halts outside their dorm, and as they kick off their shoes and make their ways inside their respective dorm rooms, Heechul whispers a quiet “look forward to tomorrow” to him before heading towards his room.

 

“I will,” he echoes back, although Heechul has already disappeared by the time the reply leaves from its clogged position in the back of his throat, and so he awkwardly clears his throat and pretends that nothing happened, shooting a smile to Ryeowook who walks past and responds with a confused expression, raised eyebrow and a shrug as he continues to walk to his room.

 

_ Don’t worry, Ryeowook-ah, Heechul-ah,  _ Jungsoo heads into his own room, tempted to flop onto his bed and fall asleep right there and then,  _ I’ll sort it all out. I won’t let my own feelings interfere with the group we’ve spent so long building. _

  
  
  


His thoughts always seem to find it difficult to agree with reality. Or rather, things can never go according to plan for him. 

 

(Most of the time, at least, life gives him false hope for a while.)

 

“Good evening,” he greets as he takes a seat opposite from Heechul after his individual schedule in the warmly-lit restaurant, noting the general lack of people around, aside from a couple in their mid-thirties who don’t seem to give a single care in the world about who they are.

 

Heechul is surprisingly earlier than him, and as Jungsoo observes him he’s glad that Heechul is dressed up more than usual just like himself - a loose-fitting top with discreet patterns neat and elegant enough to be considered formal but simple enough to be considered casual. 

 

He’s dressed up enough to be a mix between comfortably casual and awkwardly formal too, a white jacket paired with a dark blue jacket complete with dark pants. “Let’s get food,” Heechul says, seemingly not minding the somewhat uncertain air that’s hovering between them. Jungsoo is all too quick to respond, calling a waiter over to place their orders while hoping that they’re going unrecognised.

 

Thankfully, no one interrupts their dinner, and it passes better than Jungsoo envisioned it would - no awkward silences, no long drawn-out hesitations before uttering carefully-chosen words, no unexpected topics brought up. He finds that it’s a lot more comfortable to eat a meal out with Heechul, just the two of them, than he expected; they’re cracking the lamest of jokes here and there that they end up laughing at even if they’re not funny in the slightest bit, they’re catching up on all the things that they’ve missed in the years that they’ve been gone for their military days, and as Jungsoo takes a bite of his food he realises just how much he’s missed Heechul.

 

_ We’ve come far, _ he wants to say as he takes a sip of Heechul’s favourite wine, and it strikes him that those days spent sitting by Heechul attempting to comfort him, a mess of tears and alcohol and mood swings, in bouts of wavering voices and unsure words wondering if Heechul was going to snap at him to get out of the room. 

 

“Jungsoo,” Heechul calls his name, soft enough so as to not attract attention from anyone else in the restaurant but loud enough to get Jungsoo’s attention, “Can I ask you a question?”

 

He nods his head.

 

“Do you remember,” Heechul’s eyes are fixed upon him, and it’s enough to make him freeze with the wine glass still to his lips and other hand half-resting on the table. “The day that you kissed me?”

 

Jungsoo chokes on his drink.

 

Heechul watches him with a hint of mirth as he lapses into a coughing fit, causing the couple in the restaurant to turn around for a moment with raised eyebrows, and almost slams his wine glass onto the table.

 

By the time Jungsoo has recovered, a long silence had befallen them; swiping his tongue over his lips, he looks at Heechul and offers a nervous “what?”

 

Heechul smiles at him. It’s not one of amusement. “The day you kissed me, you weren’t drunk, were you?”

 

“What do you mean by that?” Jungsoo demands, and he can feel his heartbeat racing wildly in his chest, and  _ fuck he isn’t an actor _ , and the way Heechul continues to stare at him only heightens his assumption that the man sitting opposite from him isn’t buying any of his pretences, “I didn’t-”

 

“It was on purpose, wasn’t it?” The way Heechul says it sounds more like a statement than a question, and Jungsoo’s words die in his throat swallowed up by his churning heartbeat.

 

All is quiet.

 

Jungsoo’s whisper is fragile.

 

“Yes.”


	7. and the lights come on

“Yes.”

 

The word hangs between them like the lone light in a starless city - piercing, painfully obvious, and excruciatingly relieving. 

 

It is the weight that slips off his shoulders that has bore him down for too long, the secret locked in the recesses of his heart that he has protected for years on end, and the shattered culmination of every memory that they’ve shared together.

 

The possibilities are endless, and they terrify him.

 

The possibility of Heechul reciprocating his feelings, of saying the words he’s yearned to hear for so long in his most wishful of dreams in fantasy universes.

 

The possibility of Heechul pretending that nothing has happened and making him promise to stay as friends, making him promise not to love him, making him detach the one part of his heart and soul that has already grown too attached.

 

The possibility of Heechul reaching forward to destroy the light, to swathe their relationship in the darkness that his final confession might have brought forth - the possibility of their group being torn apart because of them.

 

It is a sickening revelation.

 

The knowledge that everything can halt in its tracks - the knowledge that it could be the start of everything he’s been dreaming of for so long by himself in the darkness, staring out the window at the city with no stars wondering when the lights would come on; the knowledge that it could be the end of everything he’s never known, the last chapters to a story he’s never read, the fading away of stars in the sky from other galaxies disappearing from existence in the way things do when there’s nothing left of them.

 

It is one of the most frightening things that he has ever known, a moment suspended in time when the world stops spinning on its axis for the barest of moments at six thirty-one in the evening, and he knows in the instance that his own fractured gaze meets Heechul’s unreadable one that this is the sole moment that will determine everything that he has wanted to know for the past half-decade of his life; of the victor between dreams clad in light brightening even the most starless of nights and nightmares wrapped in an all-consuming darkness no matter how bright the stars shine - of watching his years’ worth of pent-up feelings and inner turmoil amounting to something, to everything and nothing all at once.

 

Heechul calls the waiter over and pays for the bill. For a moment, Jungsoo can’t help but wonder if he’s going to stand and leave right then and there, abandoning him without a word in the quiet restaurant.

 

It’s a cruel thing to do.

 

Instead, Heechul stands, pushes in his chair agonizingly slow, and then utters all soft and calm, “Are you coming?”

 

Jungsoo can’t really bring himself to say a word, even though all he wants to do is beg Heechul to end his misery and talk to him right there and then, and instead he lets himself follow Heechul out of the doors automatically. He has no idea where Heechul is taking him, only knowing that they’re heading in the opposite direction from where the dormitories are located, sticking to the side paths where the street lamps don’t quite reach so that they go unrecognised to the people still milling around on the pavements.

 

They end up in a deserted park thirty minutes away from home, seven in the evening, woollen clouds hanging heavy in the night sky and covering any traces of stars. Heechul leads him to a tall tree by a bench, hidden away from the rest of the world, and asks gently, “How long has it been?”

 

Jungsoo’s brain stops working, and his throat dries as he tries to force out a reply.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“How long have you known?” Heechul repeats himself, louder this time, and the brokenness written in the small cracks in his tone is shocking. “How long have you suffered like this?”

 

He does not specify what he’s referring to, but it is clear to both of them.

 

“Ever since that night… the night you joked around with me and called me an old man…” he responds slowly, knowing that there’s no longer point in lying while simultaneously being surprised at his own crystal-clear memory of the night that changed everything. “Yeah.”

 

He tries to read the emotions in Heechul’s movements. He can’t.

 

As the first few raindrops begin to fall, going  _ split-splat _ in ugly fat drips against his skin, he surrenders and prepares himself to come to terms with the rejection that would follow, the heartbreak, the confirmation that he’s trying to evade for too long. 

 

The rain gets heavier quickly, transforming from a little more than innocuous drizzle to a full-on rainstorm, complete with the cacophony of thunder and the drowning rumble that downpours tend to bring. He’s faintly aware of the way his hair is getting plastered to his skin and his clothes are sticking too closely to his body, but he is far too numb to pay attention to the raindrops on his skin.

 

The silence is too deafening.

 

“Won’t you tell me to leave?” he questions hollowly, watching as the rain soaks Heechul from head to toe (he still looks beautiful with raindrops that look like tears trailing down his cheeks and hair dripping wet and clinging to his skin). “I promise we can pretend like nothing ever happened.”

 

Heechul’s embrace is warm in the cold touches of rain.

 

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting for so long,” Heechul whispers into his ear, “I’m so sorry.”

 

He does not say anything, cannot find anything to say, but his arms find their way around Heechul’s frame anyway.

 

“I’ll make it up to you.” Those are Heechul’s words as he buries his head into Jungsoo’s neck in the heavy torrent of raindrop after raindrop, and Jungsoo has to take a while to process them.

 

“What?”

 

“I said I’ll make it up to you,” Heechul says, stronger this time, fiercely almost, and his grip around Jungsoo tightens as if terrified that if he let go the two of them would break apart and fall to a million broken pieces on the ground like fractured stars falling from a lightless sky.

 

_ Why aren’t you pushing me away? _

 

_ Why didn’t you let me fall? _

 

_ Why are you still here? _

 

He doesn’t know how to respond in situations like these. “Why?”

 

Heechul smiles into his neck. “Is it so hard to believe that someone can love you back?”

 

_ Yes. _

 

_ I’ve lived the past few years believing in my own disbelief, and yet I could never quite shake away the love I still had for you. _

 

“Why?” he questions again hoarsely, “Why aren’t you leaving?”

 

This was not supposed to happen. Reality wasn’t supposed to be like an amalgamation of his most foolish dreams and his wildest nightmares - reality was supposed to be filled with cold, hard truths, not some odd mix of a fairytale and an internal war.

 

Heechul pulls back from the embrace. The downpour is heavy, dangerously so, but at this point Jungsoo could hardly care less.

 

“Because I love you,” Heechul mouths to him simply, a shy smile playing across his lips, and Jungsoo catches every word.

 

It’s hard to believe.

 

“What?”

 

“Because I love you!” Heechul yells over the din of the pouring rain, grinning wider now, free laughter bubbling from his throat as he rushes forward, directly into Jungsoo’s arms.

 

Mind the colloquialism, but holding Heechul close is the most perfect thing that he has ever known.

 

“I think that deserves a response, mister,” Heechul chuckles playfully, looking at him through rain-blurred vision.

 

Jungsoo feels something that can only hoped to be described as his heart swelling in his chest, and he lets slip the words that he’s been confining to himself for year after year.

 

“I love you too.”

 

The rain is loud around them, impossibly loud, so loud that he can barely hear his own thoughts. Staying out for any longer will be sure to land them a visit to the doctor’s, yet at this moment he can’t care much about his wellbeing.

 

He is at war with himself again; his thoughts remind him that it is all a bad idea, a temporary solution to their loneliness, a reckless rushing in to something that won’t last forever - his memories remind him of how volatile in nature the two of them can be when together, of their three months of cold silence, of how it all started with an argument between the two of them, of how any form of closer relationship would probably end in nights of screaming and crying and arguing in the dead of the night; his mind reminds him that they are the two pillars of Super Junior, that if they were to fall apart everything they’ve dedicated their lives to would too break and crash.

 

It all points to this all being a terrible idea, a risk too great for him to take, for the two of them to take; there is too much that could go wrong, too much that could be destroyed in the blink of an eye, in a mess of conflicted emotions and misunderstandings - if they cannot last forever, then they will break. And in turn, everything else will fall apart too, pieces scattered across the ground too lost and broken for him to piece back together.

 

And he cannot risk that. For Super Junior’s sake - for their own, for the fans’, for everyone’s.

 

And, selfishly, for the sake of his own heart, because if the day comes that their promises and forevers come to an end, he doesn’t want to hurt so much.

 

It can’t happen, his mind screams at him, it’s a horrifying idea that’s bound to crash to the ground; something that was never meant to be. Some day, everything will come to an end, and it would be all their fault.

 

Because how can they recklessly promise to love each other in this cloudburst night, because how can two people so broken they cannot even find themselves be together, because how can a starless city have light?

 

So Jungsoo looks at Heechul, his heart all unsteady in his chest and his mind telling him what are all the words that he should say to end it all before it can begin, and he lets the words slip from his tongue, soft and tender and shaking.

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

Heechul’s lips are upon his in response. He tastes like the vanilla ice cream they had for dessert, like his favourite red wine, like the sweet drizzle of the rain that falls around them like slivers of luminescence catching the moonlight peeking through lightening clouds.

 

It is sweeter and more intoxicating than any alcohol that he has ever tasted.

 

His hands find their way through Heechul’s hair, tangled and matted from the rain, and he smiles into the kiss - it is everything that he remembered, or even better.

 

His mind surrenders to the pull of his heart, to the gentle calm that settles upon him, the knowledge that everything will turn out to be okay; after all, he has loved Heechul for four years now, and what’s a few decades more?

 

“I’m sorry for taking so long,” Heechul murmurs to him, “I’m sorry for only realising how much I missed you after you left.”

 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungsoo tells him, pulling him in for another kiss, to which he willingly obliges. “All that matters is that we’re okay now.”

 

Because whether it be this night in the embrace of the thunderstorm or a night ten years from now, they will still be themselves, and their feelings will still be each other’s.

 

Because two broken halves will come together to form one flawless whole.

 

Because Heechul’s lips are upon his own in the night where the stars have gone into hiding from the pouring rain, and the lights come on at last.


End file.
